


for the unquiet heart

by kissmeinnewyork



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Slow Burnish, and its beautiful, but thirteen and yaz are gay, human nature au, in 1928, these are all i can write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-09-03 03:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmeinnewyork/pseuds/kissmeinnewyork
Summary: All they were told was to keep the Doctor safe for three months--except the Doctor isn't the Doctor anymore, and Yaz is totally in love, and the fact they have to share a bed every night in the servant quarters of Downton-fucking-Abbey is killing her way more than the Family ever could. [human nature au]





	for the unquiet heart

**Author's Note:**

> all i can write is human nature aus don't call me out
> 
> slow burn(ish) yaz and thirteen romance ofc
> 
> pls leave kudos/comments, more parts to come x

_prologue_

Yaz is used to fear.

Fear first found her years and years ago, stumbling round a supermarket aged six looking for her mum’s jeans and brightly coloured sandals in amongst a crowd of enormous, unrecognisable strangers. It resurfaced again aged eleven when Izzy Flint and her army of year seven bullies stole her uniform after PE and she had to walk to lost property with a towel wrapped around her middle. And after that—well, she’s become immune, it happens so often. Walking through the centre of town on the beat at midnight. Crumpled bodies leaking out of crumpled cars after particularly vicious RTAs. The way that creepy man who is always at the bus stop at the same time as her every Tuesday looks at her as she pays the driver.

Even when she’s with the Doctor, the fear is different. It’s a superpower. She charges into situations totally unabashed, with Ryan and Graham and the woman herself, and sometimes she feels invincible. Sometimes she saves the world or stops the world from destroying itself. The next morning when she puts on her high-vis ready for another day of breaking up fights between drunks or stopping people from pissing in public, Yaz feels a little less scared and a little more like maybe, she was meant for this.

But that all changes when the Doctor isn’t the Doctor anymore. The fear returns with a vengeance, coursing through her veins like the illegal substances she confiscates from Park Hill on a daily basis. She can feel it twisting in her gut, heart beating against the constraints of her ribcage. _Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum._

“Did they see you?” the Doctor shrieks, slamming the TARDIS doors closed and clinging onto the handles. Ryan and Graham look at each other, then at her, chests heaving. Yaz is used to it. She’s had to run away before—it’s not whatever that’s out there that scares her. It’s the look on the Doctor’s face—desperation, despair, and the dense, resigned ache of reliving the past—that shatters her bones.

“Did what?” Ryan shrugs, confused. The Doctor has already pushed past him, hands frantically dancing across the TARDIS control panel. If Yaz isn’t mistaken, the time machine is aching too. The beams creak and the lights throb between white and darkness, like the ship is just as aware of the situation (whatever that is) as the Doctor is.

“Not again!” the Doctor murmurs. She slides by Yaz, reaching out for a lever that releases a long, desolate moan. She shivers—it haunts her, like an anxious ghost. “This can’t be happening again. Not again. _Not again._ ”

“Doc, calm down,” Graham cuts in, trying to be the sage voice of wisdom, as is usually the way. Yaz can see the Doctor’s eyes, how wild they are, and _knows_ Graham’s kind words will be of little use now. He sidles up behind her but she darts away, looking intensely at one of the monitors. “We’re in the TARDIS, aren’t we? Whatever’s out there—it can’t get us in here. You told us that, remember?”

“I don’t always tell the truth,” the Doctor says. Her eyes concentrate on Yaz for a split second, and it’s all she needs. The Doctor is terrified. Yaz knows the Doctor must be terrified a lot of the time, underneath all that clumsy bravado and effervescent optimism. The moon sits at the heart of a dark sky, after all. You’re so busy looking at the glowing centre that you forget the blackness that _must_ lurk behind it.

But, the thing about the Doctor—she’s good at hiding when she’s terrified. She’s good at making them all feel safe even when they’re running for their lives or floating, untethered, in deep space. Right now, here…she’s not even trying to pretend that they’re going to get out of this alive.

A beam shatters against the TARDIS door and reverberates loudly, causing all four of them to flinch.

“Okay,” Graham says, releasing a deep breath, “Just tell us what is going on, so we know what to do to help. Whatever those creatures are—could we not outrun them? Jump forward a few thousand years. Surely that would shake them off.”

The Doctor decidedly shakes her head. “No—they’ve got my scent. They recognise it. They’ve probably got legends about it, by now. The Time Lord who got away.” She bites the edge of her thumb. “They’re not going to let me get away again.”

“Again?” Yaz asks, taking a step forward. “You mean… you’ve encountered them before?”

“Once, a very long time ago. I was a different man back then,” the Doctor replies. She turns, hand gently clasping at Yaz’s shoulder. “Yaz, tell me they didn’t see you.”

The longing and hope in the Doctor’s eyes is enough for Yaz to tell her that they saw nothing regardless of the truth, but she’s pretty sure she was thrown into the control room before whatever-they-are could catch a sizeable glimpse. She shakes her head softly. “I don’t think so. Ryan and Graham neither. We’re fine.”

“Good,” the Doctor lets out a long sigh, throwing her hands on her waist. “Good. At least…you three don’t have to get involved. I can do this on my own.”

Yaz glares over at Ryan who fortunately has the same idea in his brain, eyes wide. Whatever mess this is, there’s no chance she’s letting her go through this on her own. It’s not up for discussion, or contention. They’re a _team._

“No way,” Ryan insists, and Graham nods affirmatively along with him. The Doctor glances up. “I haven’t got a clue what’s happening, but we’re not going anywhere.”

“Ryan’s right,” Yaz quips, folding her arms. It’s a body language technique she remembers from training on how to deal with stubborn members of the public. The Doctor seems to frequently fall into that category. “We’re staying right here.”

“You don’t understand,” the Doctor approaches them, “I’ve been through this before and it’s ended pretty catastrophically. I hurt a lot of people and if I didn’t have to go through it again, I wouldn’t. But I refuse to hurt anyone else, including the things out there. Including you.”

Yaz feels the Doctor’s eyes linger emphatically on her for a little longer than she anticipates. She just wants to grab her, hug all the fear from her body, say that everything is going to be okay.

(But it’s not, it’s not, _it’s not_.)

Another beam shatters like a firework. Time is running out. The irony of it feels caustic, burning.

“There’s no time for your refusal,” Yaz answers calmly, “Tell us what to do, and we’ll do it. We’ll make sure no-one is hurt. I promise.”

The Doctor half-smiles, but it’s weak and sad, somehow still appreciative. “You can’t promise that.”

“Maybe not. But we can try.” Yaz clasps her hand again. Stakes the fear deep, deep down within her, because today of all days, it is not going to win. “You’re my best friend.” She looks over at Graham and Ryan. “And so are they. We are not going to let you do this on your own.”

The tension thuds in the room like an extra heartbeat. Briefly, Yaz wonders if the Doctor has made up her mind—that the risk is too big, whatever that is. She’ll never know properly until she examines the history, that one time that still haunts her, but the Doctor has so many spectres looming in her complicated past that this just seems like another added to the pile. Yaz has trudged through the TARDIS corridors at night before and seen all the bedrooms that aren’t hers or Ryan’s or Graham’s. The memories that bleed under doorways like overflowing bathwater. It’s a wonder her foundations haven’t crumbled away completely with over two-thousand years’ worth rattling around in there.

There’s no time to dwell. Abruptly, the Doctor’s face breaks out into a big grin, rubbing her hands together.

“Yaz Khan, Ryan Sinclair, Graham O’Brien,” she says with confidence, like there’s pride in her from listing their names, “You guys are the best. Absolutely idiotic, mind, but the best.”

“That’s us,” Graham jibes cheekily, elbowing Ryan. Ryan’s brow furrows, and despite the situation, Yaz giggles. “You’ll have to do a lot more than that to get rid of us.”

The TARDIS tilts dramatically and when Yaz looks back over at the Doctor, her fear is replaced by unwavering determination.

“Okay, okay,” the Doctor paces up and down, “Okay. So this is where it gets crazy, and dangerous, and you all have to listen to everything I say extremely carefully. Because in a few minutes I’m not going to be the Doctor anymore.”


End file.
